Obscene RPG Insanity
by FanfictionObscenist
Summary: A role-playing game just barely relating to Dragon Ball z is installed.


It was 7:30 in the morning at the Patterson house.

_Trevor Patterson was a 13-year old boy, an anime fan and major video game nerd (you know his kind, probably.), and as the nature of this story's category would suggest, a self-proclaimed DBZ veteran. In truth, he had only been watching it since 2001 when it aired on Toonami in 2001, and back then, he only knew enough that there were flashing lights and explosions and guys with glowing hairdos. He was a true dedicated fan until it's rerun ended on 2003, and Toonami itself began to suck. With almost no purpose in life and only a sixth year of education before him, Trevor lived a daily, uniniteresting life..._

_Until Dragonball GT emerged. It has been many years since that first broadcast._

_But that was fanfic for another day, and another universe. We now begin our story in Trevor's bedroom, where he was updating his youtube profile to impress a girl from his class who he'd liked for a short time, after giving thought that his youtube page remained dull and blank for the past few years. And while the very surprise itself was that a thirteen year old boy owned his computer, a better mystery was why his eyes became manic and well-lit as he hovered over his comments section, a post made by a certain Recuo, one of his few online friends._

"Toonami ended today dude. Steven Blum shot himself after they replaced TOM 3 and started airing repeated reruns of Naruto season 1."

It was without saying, Trevor dashed into his closet and pulled out a briefcase labeled "EmergencyPlan-1986", packed to the teeth with supplies. He shoveled an umbrella under his arm and slipped on his coat, lapping a coat on his curly hair and hurrying out into the hallway, past his brother's room, and into the living room where his Mom was watching TV and Dad preparing a spicy lunch of peppers and plantain.

"Mom. Dad." he said, "It's time to fulfill my lifelong dream. But I don't know if I can do it without your support."

"What is it Trevor?" they said practically in unison. His orange-furred cat, Tangerine, came strolling into the kitchen, eying his father's potatoes precariously set atop the counter. His eyes glowed with...curiosity.

"I want to save the world. But not like Watchmen or Superman, I want to train myself to be READY to protect our planet from anything and everything that dare endanger her. I want to travel 1,735 miles from THIS, very location to an island in an unamed region of the Bermuda Triangle and train with the legendary martial artist, The Turtle Hermit Master Roshi."

Trevor winced twice as he saw his Mother's face well up with tears and her arms embrace him. His father halted his cooking and looked on proudly at his son, a broad smile across his face. This was the last reaction Trevor had expected, seconds prior his next action would have been to bolt out of the front door and make a mad dash as far as his legs allowed, maybe more. But here he was, seeing his Dad reach into the cabinet and his Mom grab his suitcase, switching it out for an improved one with considerably more space and a better layout. But instead of EmergencyPlan-1987, this one read: MENU. And on it's side, rather than a lock on the front that could be easily broken, was a hand-sized button labeled SELECT.

"Son, we knew this day would come. You see, like you, and I, and my father, and his brother, and they're father, and all of our family's lineage, you are drawn by your own fighting spirit to become the greatest there ever was and defend everyone from everything. It is a noble, but perilous quest. Your mother and I gravely anticipated the day you would seek the immortal Turtle Hermit, as had I and my parents, as had your grandparents and their parent's great great grandparents, and so on, so forth." his father handed him a dull knife that was awkwardly shaped with a swerved handle and steel, "Use this to hunt for food and build homes out of trunks. You never know what you can create with the forest around you."

Trevor, albeit still a little stunned, accepted the knife as his mother handed him a sack. He peered inside, but she shut it closed immediately and warned him, "These are five herbs that, when consumed, will restore 50 of your health points, but in your generation their known as HP, or Hit Points. Beneath them is a sum of eight hundred gold pieces. Beneath THAT, is a vial of red liquid that will restore any magical item or object or spell you possess that you think of. Do NOT lose these."

"Can't I just buy more?" asked Trevor, clutching the sack in his one free hand.

"The United States economy is very bad now, honey." explained Mrs. Patterson, "Herbs are grinded into Potions to save the expense of planting and growing them nowadays, and the enchanted glass used to sustain the elixer in potions for extended periods nowadays is twice what it used to be."

"One more thing son." his father said, smacking his son in the face as a purple snake of energy flowed from his fist. Trevor flew back, out the window and to the wet grass of the morning.

He stirred, shaking free of the stun as his parents watched him through the new hole in their house, smiling as Trevor rose, virtually unharmed though startled and shaken up at his father's brash action. "Son, you receive Experience for every attack you survive, and that attack raised your ability to learn new moves. When you get enough experience, you become stronger and your ability repetoire increases. That was my special ability, Power Punch, and it is now yours. Concentrate all the hate and anger you feel at something, then convert it into pride and honor right as you strike your opponent. Got that son?"

Trevor nodded.

"Now go, while the air is still young! Items don't find themselves you know!"

"But Dad. Mom." he whispered sheepishly.

"Go son. We've passed on all our knowledge unto you."

That statement alone made Trevor turn away, eye twitching at the very concept of th


End file.
